


if at first you don't succeed

by peterandhispirate



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing a Bed, dema shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 09:22:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15482655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterandhispirate/pseuds/peterandhispirate
Summary: Josh thinks Tyler's determination makes him stupid, but also kind of charming.





	if at first you don't succeed

Josh had always been a pretty laid back guy. He didn't like to cause trouble or draw attention to himself. He was the type of person who lived and died quietly. No fuss. _Ever_.

Structure. It all boiled down to structure. He needed to have everything lined up - no change. Never any change.

Dema had structure.

Every few months somebody would come along and start talking shit; challenge the status quo. Josh used to root for them - quietly, of course, off to the side - but now they just pissed him off. They would kick and scream and tell everyone not to take it, to start a revolution, but nothing ever happened in the end. The shit-talkers either broke down or disappeared completely.

_Good riddance_ , Josh always thought. Did that make him a bad person? Maybe. But at least he had his peace and quiet back.

When the Bishops dragged home the bastard who called himself Tyler, Josh could tell from the get-go that they had another rascal on their hands. The difference was that Tyler wasn't the kind who spat blood and curled his lip and howled about tearing down the system with his bare hands. No, he seemed like the poetic type, always walking around with that hopeful look on his face.

It was a stupid look. He was stupid. Josh hated him.

They shared a room for the first few months. The Bishops probably thought Josh could help extinguish that flame of faith dancing around in Tyler's gut. Josh was soft, and quiet, and kind. He'd been there since the beginning - would _always_ be there. The perfect spokesperson.

Tyler was stupid and asked too many questions. Not questions about Dema, but questions about his roommate: where he came from, where his family was, if he was happy.

For the very first time, Josh wondered if happiness and comfort were the same thing. Shame on Tyler for making him wonder.

It didn't take long for him to start planning some grand escape. He tried to rope Josh in, convince him to come with, but the answer was (and always would be) "no thank you."

And so Tyler was forced to leave on his own, ruffling Josh's hair and telling him to take care of himself. Josh just smiled sadly and wished him luck.

He wasn't sad because Tyler was leaving. He was sad because he knew he would fail.

By 8AM Tyler was back in his bed, out of breath; smeared with mud. His knees were bruised and scraped, reminding Josh of a child who fell off his bike. Tyler was childish. And stupid. So fucking stupid.

"How far did you get?"

Tyler rubbed his elbow, wincing. "Not very far."

Josh hummed and stuck his nose back in the book he'd been reading. Charlotte's Web. "Better luck next time, I guess."

"I'll be smarter. Faster."

Josh hummed again, not looking up.

"You've been here awhile, right?"

"Uh huh," Josh said, turning the page.

"So you know all the ins and outs and stuff."

He snorted. "All I know is that you're making a mistake."

"Seriously, man. You sound like a George Orwell character. It's insane."

" _You're_ insane."

"At least I'm not some weird brainwashed quitter like you."

Josh thought about telling him the same story he'd been told by his old roommate a couple years back. The guy had been as crazy and passionate as they come. A dreamer. If anyone had a shot at getting out, a _real_ shot, it was him.

And he did get out - for awhile. He was gone three weeks before they dragged him back, all fucked up like Tyler was, except ten times worse. He had blisters that spat pus and skin peeling off his shoulders in sheets. When Josh worked up the courage to ask how he lasted as long as he did, the guy told him about the vultures.

"I played dead," he'd told him, leaning in real close until Josh could count the sores in his mouth. "And I'd wait for 'em to swoop down 'n start peckin' at me. And then I'd grab 'em and bash in their heads with a rock."

It was then that Josh decided he would much rather play dead in Dema than play dead out there - as long as he didn't have to eat any vultures.

Josh should've told Tyler that story. Maybe it would've had the same effect on him; made him reconsider. But he chose to let the flame burn a little longer.

 

;

 

The second time Tyler made a break for it, he woke Josh up at 3AM and begged him to come along.

"Sorry," Josh had mumbled, blinking up at him from his bed, "but no."

Tyler seemed desperate, which was new. "I know you don't want this."

Josh just looked at him and said, "You'd better get going."

So Tyler left, and five hours later he was back in bed, knees all scraped and bruised like before. But this time he was pissed.

"One of those creepy bastards told me that if I 'behaved', I'd get my own room soon. Like I was ten or something. So weird and messed up."

"Yep," Josh said, still reading the same book in the same spot.

"Whatever," he growled, angrily picking the dirt out from under his nails. "I like having a roommate, anyway."

"Does that mean you're gonna keep misbehaving?" Josh asked, finally looking up from the page he was on.

"I dunno. Probably."

Josh didn't expect anything less; neither did the Bishops, because the next time Tyler pulled one of his stunts, they caught him right away. But rather than sitting at the edge of his bed and ranting about the 'creepy bastards', he crawled under the covers next to Josh.

"Tyler?" Josh squinted through the darkness at what he assumed was his bunkmate. "What're you doing?"

"Shut up."

Okay.

Josh knew he was looking for comfort, in some weird way; he wanted to tell him that he'd be perfectly comfortable if he just stayed put. That wouldn't go over well, Josh decided, so he mumbled "goodnight" and closed his eyes.

"Night."

Josh wondered if Tyler had dreams.

 

;

 

Fourth time's the charm.

Tyler made a habit of sleeping in Josh's bed. Was that allowed? Josh wasn't sure. In all the years he'd spent there, no one had ever tried to spoon him. Why would they? It served no purpose. There was no fucking point.

Maybe Tyler didn't care about about things serving a purpose or having a point. He did shit just because.

He nestled his face in the crook of Josh's neck just because.

God, Tyler was so stupid.

Stupid enough to keep trying. Again and again and again. He tried, and he failed, and he crawled into Josh's bed like a dog crawling under a porch to die. But rather than licking his wounds in solitude, he chose to wrap himself around the only person he knew - the only one he _wanted_ to know.

The fourth time around Josh took Tyler's hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to each blackened knuckle. Tyler dug his face into Josh's shoulder, eyes squeezed shut to stop the blistery tears from burning straight through his skin.

 

;

 

Josh didn't deserve to get out. He was complacent. Docile. A quitter.

And yet, when Tyler shook him awake at two in the morning, babbling about how this was _it_ , he was getting out, _they_ were getting out, Josh you have to come with, I'm scared, I don't want to do it without you, I know you don't want this, I can see it in your eyes, Josh, _please_ ,

 

he caved.

He wrestled his way out of the sheets and let his feet hit the floor, trying not to think about the vultures, or the blisters, or the peeling skin.

Tyler took his hand, squeezed it, and Josh tried so hard not to picture him with blood and feathers in his mouth. Feral, like a fox.

He was trying. He really was.

Josh was led out the door and to the street, down the street, to the left, to the right, ducking, weaving, slinking. He was keeping up. He was trying. Nothing wrong with trying.

He had forgotten how open the sky was. It could swallow them whole if it really wanted to, but it just watched, and waited, blinking down at them with hundreds upon hundreds of silver eyes. The sky had no structure; neither did anything else beyond Dema. And that’s when it struck him: he was just as much of a dumbass as Tyler. They were both stupid, sneaky bastards.

At least Tyler knew what he wanted.

They made it further out than Josh thought was possible. Far enough to notice the change it the air. Josh sucked it in until his lungs ached. He knew the sky was waiting for _something_ ; when the whole thing went to shit, he at least wanted to remember what the air tasted like. What Tyler’s finger felt like strung together with his own.

If this was what stupidity felt like, he was proud to call himself a jackass.

Then it went to shit.

Two Bishops, two horses, two defectors. The fingers unraveled so Tyler could shove Josh ahead, shove him beyond, but what was the point? It wouldn’t be right for Josh to get out while Tyler stayed behind. Josh didn’t _deserve_ to get out. Tyler was the one with all the scrapes and bruises - the dancing flame. The hopeful look. He had earned the taste of the air and the rolling sky.

Another shove, more frantic this time.

What was the fucking point?

_I know you don’t want this_.

It didn’t matter if he wanted it or not. He chose it. Tyler rejected it from the start. So why wasn’t Josh the one being dragged back to Dema by the wrist?

Maybe they thought he wouldn’t last. And in a way, they were right. He stumbled around for a week, no longer trying, until the Banditos picked him up and dusted him off.

There was truly no structure on the outside. Maybe that’s why Josh became one of those shit-talkers who spat blood and curled their lip and howled about tearing down the system with their bare hands. He slunk along the tops of canyons, waiting for Tyler to pass through, because in some ways, he was still soft, and quiet, and kind.

Just not soft enough to sit back and hope that Tyler would bust himself out eventually.  


**Author's Note:**

> if your angsty dystopia doesn't include charlotte's web then what's the point honestly


End file.
